Mr Wooster's Cold
by Jestana
Summary: Takes place directly after Brinkley Manor, the bike ride has an unexpected result.


**Mr Wooster's Cold**

I must confess to a small degree of enjoyment in the fact that Mr Wooster's bicycle ride to Kingham in the rain would be for naught. I felt it was suitable recompense for his packing the white mess jacket with brass buttons himself and wearing it. It did, I feel compelled to admit, suit his tall, lanky frame rather well: the style and cut of it, particularly when worn with the black waistcoat and evening trousers, accentuated the length of his legs. That is why I objected to the jacket: it made him too handsome for my peace of mind.

Regardless, I was well prepared to help Mr Wooster dry off and warm up once he returned from his fruitless bicycle ride. Upon entering the room that Mr Wooster had been given for his stay after he returned, I found my employer in the midst of peeling off his soggy pyjamas. A pang of guilt smote me and I immediately crossed to his side to assist him. Mr Wooster dried himself briskly with the towel I provided, but his skin remained cold to the touch. I let his wet garments remain in a damp pile on the floor by our feet as I helped my employer into the bathrobe that had been warmed in front of the fire.

After seeing to Mr Wooster's comfort and tidying up the room, explaining the full extent of my plan to him as I did so, I left the room to prepare an omelette as he'd requested. I have always got on well with Anatole, so I knew he would not object to my use of his kitchen for such a trifle. Of course, the fact that he had gone back to bed by the time I arrived in the kitchen to fix the requested omelette aided me in my endeavour.

When I returned, I found Mr Wooster asleep in the chair, his feet still submerged in the cooling water. Setting the food on the table by the bed, I gently shook Mr Wooster's shoulder. "Sir?" My employer stirred, but remained asleep. His neck would grow stiff if he remained asleep in the chair, so I shook his shoulder again, more firmly. "Sir, wake up."

"Huh? What-ho, Jeeves. Is it morning?" Mr Wooster blinked up at me with sleepy blue eyes.

"No, sir, you fell asleep in the chair," I explained as Mr Wooster removed his feet from the water, drying them with the towel from his shoulders before sliding them into his slippers. "Since it was highly doubtful that you would wish to have a stiff neck, I took the liberty of rousing you."

"Thank you, Jeeves. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I shouldn't like to contemplate it, sir."

Mr Wooster was soon attired in dry pyjamas and settled in bed with the omelette. After ascertaining that he had no further need for my services, I withdrew and finally made my way to the room I had been given in the servant's quarters, where I finally changed for bed and settled down to sleep.

#

When I took Mr Wooster's tea to him the next morning, his voice was hoarse and his greeting lacked its usual cheer and effervescence. "What sort of day is in store for us, Jeeves?"

"Cool and crisp, sir, and somewhat damp from last night's rain."

"Don't mention rain, Jeeves. I've had enough bally rain to last me a lifetime."

"Yes, sir." I cleared my throat. "When did you wish to return home, sir?"

"Today, if you can arrange it."

"Very good, sir. Shall I lay out our brown tweed suit, then?"

"Yes, that will be fine, Jeeves, thank you."

"Very good, sir."

#

Surprisingly, Mr Wooster asked me to drive when we set out for London that afternoon. Most of my previous employers had been content to let me do the driving for them, but Mr Wooster had made it clear early on that he preferred to do so if we were to go anywhere in the two-seater. The fact that he'd requested that I drive suggested that he might not be feeling well, so I took the liberty of inquiring, "Are you unwell, sir?"

"I don't feel like driving today, Jeeves, that's all."

That response did not answer my question, but I was unable to inquire further because Mr Wooster managed to fall asleep during the drive back to London. I risked several glances at my employer's sleeping face as I drove along and noticed that his face was drawn and a little paler than usual.

I was smote by several more pangs of guilt at the thought that Mr Wooster could have caught a cold during his bicycle ride the previous night, since it was largely through machinations on my part that he had gone in the first place. I chose not to attempt to rouse him, but let him sleep as we put Brinkley Manor behind us. He clearly needed it.

#

Upon our return to London, my hypothesis that Mr Wooster had caught a cold was proved true. He spent several days either stretched out on the sofa or lounging in bed, sneezing and coughing frequently. He managed to remain cheerful despite how miserable such conditions must have made him. Each sneeze and cough caused another small pang of guilt to smite me for my part in Mr Wooster catching the cold. My night off gave me a chance to escape the sneezes and coughs that filled our flat, but I was unable to truly enjoy it, as my thoughts were on my employer the entire time I was away.

Given Mr Wooster's generous and forgiving nature, it came as no surprise to me when he refused to let me make an apology for having made him sick. "You couldn't have known that it would rain that night, Jeeves."

"But, sir--"

"No, Jeeves. It worked out for the best for everyone, except this bally cold, which won't last forever anyway. I'll have no more attempts to apologise, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

I refrained from further verbal attempts to express my regrets, but I continued to do so by taking especially good care of Mr Wooster while he was ill. Once he recovered, I vowed to myself that I would never again endanger my employer's health while attempting to help him or his friends with their problems, even if I wished him to dispose of particular item of clothing. I would simply find other ways of expressing my displeasure with the item under dispute.

**End**


End file.
